


Dragon's Breath

by IcyPanther



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, Minor Sokka/Suki, Protective Sokka (Avatar), Public whipping, Sokka (Avatar)-centric, Sokka Angst, Violence, Zuko (Avatar) whump, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Zuko Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-20 16:36:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21059792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: When his friends fall sick from a Fire Nation toxin it’s up to Zuko to save them. But the antidote is rare, his face is known, and the Fire Nation is out for his head. And despite his efforts Zuko does what he always does best: he fails.It’s up to Sokka, the last one still somewhat standing, to save him not just from the bounty hunters but Zuko’s own people who believe their prince is a traitor, and figure out a way to save everyone else from the toxin.But sometimes...Sometimes not everyone can be saved.





	Dragon's Breath

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes:** mid-season three, set after Boiling Rock  
**Warning notes:** blood, public whipping, violence

Something was wrong.

Even in his fevered state Sokka knew it had been much longer than the hour Zuko had promised he'd be back – already shadows were darkening their camp – and if there was one thing he could always count on it was that Zuko was as punctual as Toph was blind.

And if something had gone wrong with Zuko…

Sokka’s stomach turned over in a way that the illness had not yet done. 

They were all in deep, deep trouble.

And while their ragtag group had somehow always beaten impossible odds Sokka had sickening feeling this wouldn’t be such a time.

This time…

This time they really all could die.

Sokka stumbled to his feet from where he’d been sitting on the downed log and keeping watch for all the good it would do, world going hazy on the edges and he paused, bracing his hands on his thighs, and breathing in deeply through his nose until it steadied. 

He needed to find Zuko.

But before that…

He cast his gaze to the rest of his companions. They were so _ still. _

He didn’t think he’d ever seen Aang like that; lying so lax on his back and chest faintly rising, which only highlighted the dark red lines stretching down sweat-covered limbs that traced what Zuko had told them were his Chakra lines. 

Katara, his baby sister, was lying curled on her side, the lines not as visible on her dark skin but he could see them still and how flushed her cheeks were. 

And if seeing Aang like that somehow it was worse to see it on Toph. Toph, who did nothing in life quietly, whose small size contained a giant of a personality, barely appeared to be alive now.

She barely was.

The darker the lines got the closer to death one became. 

And benders were its first targets.

It was why Sokka and Suki were still standing, relatively speaking, even though they’d been poisoned too. 

Sokka had never liked bugs and hadn’t realized how lucky they’d been down in the cold southern waters where bugs didn’t exist.

Now he hated them.

And he especially hated Fire Nation ones.

And the worst part? 

This had been completely avoidable. 

After escaping from the Western Air Temple following Azula's attack, they had set course for the Ember Islands where Zuko had a family home. He'd assured the group his father would never look for them there.

They’d touched down at a decent sized town two days ago to collect supplies as they hadn’t had time to grab anything although, for once, they actually had money as Zuko had had the foresight to bring a good sized purse when he’d left home and had had it on him during the attack. 

Zuko had opted to stay outside the town as his wanted poster was plastered everywhere. He'd been declared a traitor to the Fire Nation for assisting the Avatar and was wanted dead or alive by Ozai.

Sokka would have had to be blind to miss the stricken expression on Zuko’s face when he’d first seen them. 

The whole dead thing was a part of it, Sokka knew. He couldn’t even imagine how it would feel if his own dad had essentially told the world that he didn’t care if his son lived or died. But he knew that wasn’t what had really hurt Zuko.

It had been the bit about Zuko being an enemy of the Fire Nation. The poster was littered with all of the crimes Zuko had committed against it against its people.

People that Sokka knew Zuko was only trying to save. He cared about the Fire Nation, about its culture and people. It was why Sokka knew Zuko would make a good Fire Lord. It was why he had chosen to trust him when Katara hadn’t. Because Zuko could see what the Fire Nation was doing was wrong, how many people it was hurting. And his decision to come after them, to abandon his wealth and crown, to teach Aang firebending to take down his father…

That was the mark of a man who loved his people. 

People who believed their prince was a traitor.

There was nothing they could do about it right now. The truth would come out eventually, the people would see that Zuko was a Fire Nation royal deserving of their honor and respect, but right now he had to keep a low profile and his head down and wait for the right moment.

So while Zuko stayed behind with Appa and Momo, the rest had gone into town in their Fire Nation disguises. Toph had never been much for shopping and Aang had the attention span of a chicken-goldfish when it came to supplies shopping, so Katara had given them permission to wander about but _ “stay out of trouble.” _

To Sokka’s surprise they did.

Apparently there was a traveling outdoor theater rolling through the area that was putting on free performances that involved circus acts and dramatic readings and firebending and even magic tricks and by the time Sokka, Katara and Suki finished up their shopping both Aang and Toph were still enjoying themselves and no covers had been blown.

Sokka had been all set to get going but Aang had begged to let them stay for a few more minutes as the Fire Flies performance was about to begin.

Fire Flies, Sokka learned, were a beetle native to the Fire Nation that had the ability to light themselves on fire (of course) and they would swarm to make patterns in the air to the direction of a flute. It was pretty impressive, Sokka would admit, but what had made it really enjoyable was watching Toph’s face as she “saw” the performance through the varying heat blasts.

The handler had invited for everyone to play with the beetles when the show was over — demonstrating how to hold one and the correct _ chirp _to encourage the bug to summon a tiny spark of fire on its back that was only warm to the touch and would not burn.

The bugs were sort of… greasy, Sokka had grimaced, but Suki had loved them and therefore Sokka loved them and he’d let them crawl all over him. 

They’d then been told that for a small price they could purchase several of the Fire Flies and Toph had whipped out money so fast — “_where did you get that?” _Katara had demanded and Toph’s devilish grin and Aang’s nervous chuckle had answered that and to his relief Katara had let it go, merely muttering at least it hadn’t ended like their last gambling scheme — Sokka had felt a breeze. 

A few Fire Flies had been put into a jar, care instructions provided, and they’d finally, finally started back to where they’d left Zuko about a mile outside of town.

Sokka hadn’t really been expecting a hello or any sort of joyful reception given that they’d been gone for far longer than they’d planned, but he hadn’t expected to see Zuko leap to his feet as though he’d just been bit and yank the jar of Fire Flies out of Toph’s hand with a yell and tossed them far, far into the forest.

“_What the hell was that for?” _ Toph had snarled. “_You, you jerk!” _

Zuko should have been running for his life as Toph could literally kill him. Instead he stepped closer and grabbed Toph’s hands almost violently.

“_Let me go! That hurts!” _

Sokka had started forward, unsure what was going on but Zuko was not acting right and he heard Katara unstoppering her canteen as she perceived the same, but when Zuko looked up it was not anger or hate on his face.

It was fear.

Katara’s water had hit the ground with a dull splash as Zuko then quietly spoke.

“_Fire Flies are toxic.” _

That couldn’t be true, Katara had argued, although her voice had shook. The theater wouldn’t have—

_ “All Fire Nation citizens are given an antitoxin at birth,” _ Zuko had explained. He’d looked up, meeting their eyes. _ “ _ All _ Fire Nation citizens.” _

It didn’t take a genius to figure out the implication. Anyone who got sick with the symptoms from the toxin — secreted out of the beetle’s body and responsible for the greasy feeling — which followed the body’s chakra lines that would start with a fever as the body began to overheat until it resulted in death via organ failure as vessels ruptured/and those that regularly used their chakras — benders — were far more susceptible to its effects was not a Fire Nation citizen. 

And the Fire Nation would not take kindly to learning foreigners were in the heart of their country.

There was a cure, Zuko said. A rare plant called Dragon’s Breath, but anyone asking after it would immediately rouse suspicious because all Fire Nation citizens were supposed to be immune.

Sokka had suggested shakily they could use their Colonies cover story, but Zuko had shaken his head at that. Even the poorest of the poor were given the antivenom because of the widespread popularity of the beetles in shows and even in nature, although they could only normally be found come summer months.

Katara had said she could just heal them but Zuko had shot that down too. _ “It’s not a wound. You can’t heal it.” _

There was only one solution that would both heal them and keep them from being discovered:

They would have to steal the Dragon’s Breath.

Unfortunately the town they just came from would be too small to have such a rare herb, said Zuko. They'd need to head to a city to even have a chance of finding it. And the closest one, Jao Shing, was a two-day trip away.

No one was feeling any effects yet, but Zuko insisted they leave immediately. 

Aang had fallen ill that night; just a light fever that he’d tried to laugh away but there had been no hiding the fear starting to swim into soft charcoal eyes.

By morning Toph and Katara each had one too and Aang was starting to develop a trace of a red line down his chest and over his head. Sokka had clung to the vain hope that he and Suki might have been spared as come mid-morning neither still had yet to display any symptoms even though Aang was getting more and more flushed, but it was not to be as come noon a brush of pink unrelated to the high sun had started to stain Suki’s skin and Sokka could feel a warmth dusting his own cheeks.

They flew as fast as Appa could carry them towards Jao Shing, pausing only in the evenings to let the Air Bison rest and for all of them save Zuko to stretch out on a slab of ice Katara would make for them as a lower body temperature was the best way to slow the toxin. 

But they didn't have long. Aang was rapidly deteriorating – faster than Zuko had thought, letting out a humorless laugh that he didn’t think an Avatar had ever been exposed to Fire Flies before – and Toph and Katara weren't far behind. By the time they landed about a mile outside Jao Shing, Zuko thought Aang had maybe a few hours – his skin was starting to splotch around the lines – and Katara and Toph a few hours past that.

Sokka couldn’t begin to explain how his heart had seemed to freeze then, a direct contrast to how hot he felt, at the thought that any of them — that_ Katara _ — could die. His baby sister. Who he had _ promised _to protect, even if these days Katara could whoop his butt and then some. He was her big brother.

And he could do nothing.

Sokka was always aware of his lack of bending, of how in a fight he was dismissed by the enemy as not a real threat, but he’d never let those things pull him down, never let them make him feel useless.

He felt useless now. 

They had made it to Jao Shing at least without incident, landing Appa about a mile outside the town. They had original planned for Zuko and Suki to scout out the town while Sokka remained behind and offered what care he could — Katara too weak to make the ice slab so they had only the tepid river water they’d parked by to act as a coolant — and Zuko would sneak back that evening under the cover of darkness to steal the plant.

But they didn't have time. 

If they waited that long Aang would _ die. _

So Zuko had taken off towards Jao Shing with the promise he'd be back in an hour and to be ready to go.

Sokka had prepped Appa, apologizing softy to the Bison that he hadn’t removed his saddle after all the non-stop flying and received a low groan and a gentle for Appa lick atop his head, and then took up watch for Zuko while Suki tended to the others.

It was hard for Sokka to concentrate and he was pretty sure he’d messed up counting the minutes back somewhere in the twenties, but he knew for sure it had been more than an hour and it was dark and Zuko _ was not back. _

Vision no longer going in circles now, Sokka slowly made his way to Suki, who was slumped over next to Aang with a washcloth in hand that was as warm as the humid Fire Nation air. 

Even in the dim lighting he could make out the rosy patches of color on her face and the sweat dotting her brow. He knew he would look similar except that his dark tones hid the worst of the fever.

“Hey,” he murmured, crouching down and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

She turned her head slightly, soft brown eyes meeting ocean blue, and he could see the knowing in them.

And the fear.

He didn’t like that look on her. 

“What do we do?” she asked quietly. 

They both could hear the other part to her question.

"I'll go after him," Sokka said.

Suki shook her head. “No. I’ll go. You're in no condition to fight.”

"Neither are you," Sokka countered even though he was the one swaying a bit while Suki was relatively steady. "And who said anything about fighting?"

Suki frowned at him and Sokka felt his cheeks heat.

Yeah. 

That hadn’t been the brightest answer. 

And all he could think of now were the wanted posters declaring Zuko a traitor, painting him as the worst sort of criminal, and how _ high _the bounty had been for his head. 

If Zuko wasn’t back yet, well over the hour he’d promised, it wasn’t because he was having tea and a nice stroll. 

“I’ll go,” Suki said, bracing a hand on the ground to push herself up.

Sokka gently pushed down on her shoulder to keep her sitting. "You're showing signs of the fever more than I am." His darker skin hid the flush better, and at a cursory glance he might get passed over as drunk. "They'd spot you instantly."

"I'm stealthier. I am a Kyoshi Warrior, you know."

“The stealthiest,” Sokka agreed with a smile.

Suki smirked at him and stood up in one graceful movement.

She took a step…

And then she was falling.

Sokka was standing in a blink, arms wrapping about Suki from behind to catch her.

He wasn’t strong enough though to keep them up, his own legs shaky, but he managed to bring them down to the ground in one piece, ending with an ungrateful sit with Suki practically in his lap.

He could feel the heat radiating off her. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against his arm. “I thought…”

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I know.”

Neither of them were really in any condition to be walking about let alone fighting. 

And yet…

Yet they were going to have to. 

If they didn’t…

They all died. 

And Zuko…

Sokka had no idea what had happened to him but he knew it was far from good. 

“I’ll go,” he said into the quiet night. 

“Sokka—”

“I’ll come back,” he interrupted.

Suki turned his his arms, one hand coming to rest against his warm cheek. 

“Promise me you’ll come back,” she whispered, cinnamon eyes searching his for the truth.

He leaned forward, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to her lips, before pulling away. “I promise.”

She gave a slow nod. 

And then captured his lips back in an equally soft kiss. “Go.”

A few minutes later Sokka had his sword strapped on, his gait as steady and quick as he could make it, and was headed for Jao Shing.

He only hoped he wasn't already too late.

**About an hour earlier...**

Zuko observed Jao Shing from underneath the hood of his cloak, eyes narrowing at the guards stationed at the main gate. The town – more of a city, rather – was probably about the size of Omashu and was certainly affluent.

While Zuko knew he'd find the Dragon's Breath here, he was wishing it wasn't quite so fortified and there weren't so many armed guards. He normally didn’t mind the extra challenge, but this wasn’t the Blue Spirit sneaking about Ba Sing Se to steal for his own gain.

His friends’ — _friends, _the concept still making him smile and something warm fill his chest — lives depended on him.

He would not let them down.

Still, Zuko knew it would be beyond foolish to try and go through the main gate; not with his wanted poster plastered all over it.

The face of the enemy.

His hand drifted up to his scar, feeling mottled, raised flesh, before he tugged his hood down further even though no one was looking upwards at the trees he was currently crouched in. He knew time was ticking down, but he would be able to help no one if he were caught, and so he had to wait.

And wait.

Nearly thirty minutes into his already limited hour Zuko finally made his move.

He jumped from tree to tree along the length of the wall, heading away from the main gate and the watchful guards and towards a section that had no patrol he could make out. From there it was a matter of leaping from the tree onto the top of the wall and scrambling over; a little less gracefully than he’d like but he was trying to stay as low as possible.

It was a sheer twenty-foot drop down but there was a convenient wheelbarrow full of leafy cabbages parked along the wall. 

Smirking, Zuko dropped.

The cabbages cushioned the worst of the fall although Zuko winced as the wheelbarrow gave way, sending produce everywhere. He was on his feet within a few seconds, dusted off a wayward leaf that had tried to cling to him, dropped a gold coin into the mess that should cover the damages and more and ducked down the nearest empty street. 

A moment later there was a strangled cry of _“My cabbages!” _and a few people around him all looked to the source of the shout, but no guards appeared. Zuko allowed himself a small smirk and slipped into the evening crowd.

The streets were still rather full despite the evening hour, no doubt given the fact numerous restaurants and taverns were now starting to grow busier, which Zuko was grateful for as it gave him a chance to mingle and look inconspicuously at the storefronts. 

On his third street he finally found what he was looking for: Mei-Ling's Herbs and Remedies.

The inside of the shop was dark and quick pull on the handle let Zuko know it was locked. Glancing around and finding no one paying him any mind, he carefully pulled a small metal pick out of his sleeve.

Being the Blue Spirit had taught him a lot and one of the things he had found most useful was his ability to lockpick. When Toph had found out she’d given him further pointers and unless the lock was something guarding perhaps the Fire National Royal Treasury, he could break into almost anything.

The trick was not to make it obvious.

Zuko leaned up against the door, slouched and looking to anyone passing by as someone just resting under the awning, perhaps waiting for a friend or a date. His fingers though were twisting and prodding at the lock and not even a minute later Zuko felt the _ clink _as tumblers unlocked.

He slipped inside like a shadow and locked the door behind him.

The low light from the dying sun cast a few streaks across the floorboards illuminating what Zuko had come to recognize as a typical apothecary – bunches of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, barrels of ingredients dotting the walls, a very pungent smell – but what drew Zuko's interest were the small baskets in the wall behind the front counter.

Each basket was neatly labeled with some of the rarer herbs that wouldn't be available to the general public. And sure enough, on the very bottom row, was Dragon's Breath.

There was little use to having it as other than working as an antitoxin to Fire Flies Dragon’s Breath was considered useless. But there were some amongst the rich and elite who liked it for its flavor in tea — his uncle included and the thought of him made Zuko’s heart hurt and what was he doing? was he okay? did he… did he miss Zuko? and he shoved the thoughts away because now was not the time — and for a town as affluent as Jao Shing he knew there were probably a few who would be willing to spend the cost to impress just as affluent guests.

There was three small sprigs of the bright orange and red plant — hence where it got its name — and Zuko knew that amount had probably cost a tiny fortune to the shopkeeper. He very carefully took one and replaced it with five of the highest value gold coins that existed in the Fire Nation that should move than cover its cost. 

Tucking the plant securely in his pocket, Zuko let his eyes wander about the apothecary. Given its size and the location of the front door to the crowded market street it would make sense to—

Zuko’s eyes landed on the back door.

Perfect.

It would exit into the back alley removed from the night life of town. He’d take them back to where he’d come in and rapel himself up the wall and then into the trees. A literal hop, skip and a jump. And then…

He glanced at his pocket where the Dragon’s Breath lie.

Then he could save his friends. 

At the reminder Zuko strode quickly over to the door. He was making good time and would be back within the hour, but the sooner the better. Aang had…

Aang had not looked good. Zuko had only seen him that still one time in his life; when Azula had shot him in the back and he’d collapsed. The scene liked to play itself over and over in Zuko’s mind — how he’d let a _ child _be hurt, how he’d turned his back on Uncle, and how he could see Katara’s despair and hurt against Azula’s triumph and sneer. 

He should have known then that he’d made the wrong choice. 

All he could do now though was keep making up for it, and stalling here having mental soliloquies down memory lane was not doing it.

Zuko scowled at himself and opened the back door—

And barely ducked in time as a huge spiked club came swinging at his face.

He stumbled backwards into the building, frantically tugging down on his hood before his face was revealed and trying to assess the unexpected obstacle.

And Zuko had a sinking feeling as he looked at the man before him that this was no random encounter. 

The man was large, dressed in high quality Fire Nation clothes, dark hair pulled back in a braid with a devilish grin adorning his face. But it was the bandana wrapped about well muscled arms that made Zuko’s breath catch.

A dagger piercing a flame: the symbol of a Fire Nation bounty hunter.

"Looks like I caught myself a thief," the man smirked as Zuko frantically tried to figure out _ how _the man had found him. "I wonder how much you're worth, little fire-rat."

Zuko didn't answer, but drew his dao blades with a sharp _ shing _from their sheath, mind running over the man’s words and only a sliver of relief in the fact the man didn’t know he was targeting the Fire Nation’s prince. 

“Oh ho,” the man chuckled, lifting the spiked club up where he had it resting at his side. “A little bit of bite to you, eh fire-rat? To be expected from a thief who so easily avoided the city’s guards. Clever bit, that, coming over the wall.”

Zuko felt his heart stutter.

He’d been seen?

“Just a guess, of course,” the man shrugged. “But that cabbage cart didn’t fall apart by itself and a hooded stranger wandering around town during this heat wave?” He clucked his tongue. “What pretty face are you hiding, fire-rat?”

Of course.

Of course he didn’t just have to run into a bounty hunter built like a small mountain, he had to run into a _ smart _ bounty hunter built like a small mountain. He’d always known his luck was awful — “ _ lucky to born,” _he heard his father hiss — but this was ridiculous. He’d been hoping maybe, maybe, it might have started to change when he finally did the right thing, but apparently the universe wasn’t ready to start evening the odds yet.

Zuko had a few options here. 

He could fight; it would take time, make noise, and likely draw an audience.

He could feint; surprise the bounty hunter with a burst of fire and hope he could slip past him, the most direct route out of the alley.

Or he could run; the only opening was the roof above but Zuko knew he could easily clamber up the store, the issue being it would leave his back exposed and he had yet to meet a bounty hunter that wouldn’t take advantage of that.

Feint it was.

Zuko flashed his swords through the air, forcing the man to either counter with his club or step to the side, and went to shoot fire down the blades.

To his surprise the man swung the heavy, should have been slow club… and he _ lifted _Zuko off his feet with the swing as it smashed into his blades.

Only years of training and natural tiger-seal like grace allowed Zuko to avoid gutting himself on his own swords as he was thrown through the air and crashed back to the ground.

Grunting, Zuko stumbled back to his feet.

And although it hadn’t been the way he’d envisioned his plan going, the alley behind him was wide open and he could take off, lose the larger, should be slower, man, and escape that way.

The bounty hunter was even assisting, standing there with his jaw dropped and not moving because his eyes were…

Zuko swallowed.

The man’s eyes were trained on his scar.

His hood had fallen off in the throw.

“You,” the man gasped. “You’re—”

Zuko didn’t wait around to hear the rest. He shot a wave of fire behind him to provide a few seconds of cover and then he _ ran. _A sharp, piercing whistle followed him.

More started to join it.

A gang, Zuko realized faintly. It was a gang of bounty hunters. 

And they were hunting him.

He flipped himself up a ladder and onto the roof of a shop and double backed where he had just come from, spotting the bounty hunter’s dark head whip around as he gave a shout, as he was only running further into town and away from the main gate.

He also saw several more people converging in the alley.

It would be fine though. He was above them, running away and far faster than they could follow down below. He just couldn’t trip, couldn’t miss a step because he _ could not be caught. _

Now that the thought had crossed his mind though everything on the rooftops were obstacles just trying to bring him down and it was taking effort where it never had before to balance on rickety beams and run on uneven slopes. 

But he was doing it.

The end of the block of was in sight and he’d just have to jump down, use the shops for cover, scramble up the wall and take off for the forest.

He could do this.

He was going to save them.

He was—

What was that noise?

It sounded almost like the whistles of before but it was less pitchy, more airy.

And _ close. _

And then _ agony _slammed into his leg.

Zuko let out a scream as his leg crumpled below him that turned into a yell as he hit the roof with a jarring _ thump _and began to slide down the edge. 

Fingers scrambled to catch hold of the tiles even as _ pain pain pain _ tried to prevent it as his leg _ screamed _from what he was dully realizing was an arrow.

They’d shot him.

The voices were becoming audible now and Zuko frantically tried to pull himself back up from the roof edge, somehow get his feet beneath him even though his right leg was refusing to support him.

No.

He could not get caught.

He could not—

Hands wrapped about his ankle.

Zuko summoned fire to his foot and _ kicked _ and the awful scent of burning flesh mixed with the unfortunate man’s scream as his heel smashed into some part of a body. 

The hands let go.

But it was too late, Zuko pulled back to the edge of the low roof and in easy grasp.

More hands landed on him; his chest and back and upper arms where he couldn’t summon fire although he _ tried _but they were weak sputters and he realized he hadn’t just been shot.

He’d been drugged.

It was the only thing he could think of as to why his fire was not coming, why despite the adrenaline and the pain everything was starting to go hazy on the edges.

He tumbled off the roof into waitings fists and boots, blows raining down upon him.

He barely felt them.

Failure hurt more. 

He’d failed them. 

They were going to…

To…

The large bounty hunter appeared in his vision, smirk that would perfectly overlay Azula’s own bearing down upon him.

“We meet again, fire-rat. Or should I say…” he raised his spiked club up high. “Prince Zuko.”

The club came down.

And Zuko knew no more.

xxx

By the time Sokka arrived at Jao Shing, he was exhausted and was using his sword as a crutch to keep one foot in front of the other.

He was also incredibly suspicious.

The gates were unguarded and wide open, the guards’ attention drawn elsewhere, no doubt the faint shouting Sokka could hear from further in.

He swallowed.

He didn’t want to imagine what the townspeople were cheering about. 

But the vacated gates were a stroke of luck as Sokka hadn’t really figured out in the nearly twenty minutes of staggered walking how he was going to get in otherwise and he cursed the fever not for the first time at how… _ sluggish _it made him feel. He was the self-coined Idea Guy and he could think of nothing.

He followed the sound of the crowd, of the bright orange glow permeating the darkness of the night.

He followed it down an abandoned street and around a corner.

And then he froze.

“Zuko,” the other boy’s name fell from his lips without permission.

He’d found Zuko.

He just…

This was...

Zuko was hanging limply by his hair from a giant of a man's hands, blood dripped down his face over the prominent scar, on some sort of stage in what looked to be the town square, while his wrists looked like they’d been bound behind him.

He’d found the townspeople and guards too. They were clustered en masse around the stage, screaming and shouting and cheering as the large man turned Zuko this way and that, jerking his hair and slamming his knees up and down into the stage.

Zuko didn’t make a sound.

Sokka’s heart stopped.

Was Zuko…

Dead?

Tui and La, no. 

No.

He couldn’t be. 

Sokka swayed, sword digging into the ground to keep him upright.

The man was waving a hand now at the crowd and they were quieting down and Sokka took a few more staggered steps forward to hear better, to see better, because Zuko couldn’t be…

He couldn’t be…

“Greetings, great and wonderful people of Jao Shing!” the man shouted. “I, Laun of Jao Shing and your beloved Crimson Flame Hunter, have captured this traitorous piece of scum!" 

Wild applause broke out and Sokka barely held his feet as the very ground seemed to shake with the cheers.

“Before I collect the bounty and return this traitorous prince to our esteemed Lord Ozai, I wished to share my victory with all of you. I wished to let you enact your pain, your suffering, your _ hate, _upon this filth who has robbed us of our honor. What say you?”

If the screams had been loud before they were deafening now.

Still, Sokka found himself letting out a breath.

Zuko wasn’t dead.

Thank Tui and La.

Now he just…

Just needed to think of a way to save him.

Nothing came to mind.

“Come on Idea Guy,” Sokka pleaded with himself. “_Think. _”

“Let’s wake up our prince from his little nap, hm?” Laun suggested, pulling Sokka from his pathetic rescue idea attempts and that seemed to be a cue as another man with the same red bandana wrapped about his arm stepped up onto the stage with a large bucket in hand. 

Sokka knew what was about to happen without even having to look.

And somehow above the crowd’s cheering again he heard Zuko’s sharp gasp as what had to be ice cold water was thrown into his face and he jerked awake, twisting in Laun’s grip. 

The crowd screamed louder and Zuko flinched back, water dripping down his face and bangs, and Laun only dragged him more upright, forcing Zuko to put his own weight on what Sokka was realizing was a bleeding, injured, right leg, the entire limb trembling.

Laun didn’t give him any more time than that before he was pivoting, dragging Zuko in front of him and addressing the screaming crowd.

“What do you have to say to this traitor?” he roared. 

"You're a disgrace to the Fire Nation!"

"Where's your honor now?"

“Traitor!”

“Kill the traitor!”

Sokka cringed as if the verbal attacks were aimed at him. 

Zuko though…

Zuko simply bowed his head as much as he was able to in Laun’s grip against the wave of threats and slurs.

“You turned your back on us!”

“Death! Death! Death!”

“You’re not our prince!”

"My son died fighting for the Fire Nation!" a woman screamed, tear-lined voice rising above the rest. "And you help his murderers?"

Sokka saw Zuko lift his head then, eyes angled somewhere lower in the crowed. His lips moved although Sokka couldn’t hear what he said.

Laun did though.

And he _ laughed, _throwing his head back.

"He said he's sorry!" the man bellowed, shaking Zuko like one would a ragdoll. 

The crowd roared with dark amusement.

"Let's make him sorry!" shouted one man.

Laun smiled much like a wolf-shark and Sokka felt his stomach bottom out. 

No…

He was saying…

"I think,” Laun’s voice was quiet but no less dangerous, “that's an excellent idea.”

He turned to his fellow bounty hunter and shoved Zuko at him, the boy stumbling. “String him up.”

The other man’s hand latched about Zuko’s arm and Zuko…

Zuko spewed fired.

The man let him go with a yelp as Zuko turned in a full circle, flames licking at the air and preventing anyone from getting close. 

If the circumstances had been different Sokka would have been insanely impressed. That had to be the technique Zuko had told them his uncle was famous for; the Breath of Fire. 

A Dragon’s Breath.

The sudden irony was not lost on him.

But Zuko didn’t take the moment of surprise to flee, to push his attack.

He stood his ground, head head high as he looked out across the crowd that didn’t seem to know if they wanted to scream or be silent.

Sokka sucked in a harsh breath of his own.

Zuko was not a prisoner in that moment.

He was a prince.

And those were his people.

“My name,” he did not shout but his voice still carried as silence began to ripple across the crowed, “is Zuko, Prince of the Fire Nation and son of Ursa.” 

The omission of Ozai was glaring.

Murmurs began to stop.

“And,” Zuko’s leg shook beneath him. “I am not your enemy.”

The silence hung.

And then the booing began. 

“I am not your enemy,” Zuko’s voice grew louder over the shouts of the crowd. “I am trying to help y—”

He was cut off as Laun’s fist smashed into his face and he _ crashed _into the stage.

“Enough!” Laun bellowed. “Are we going to stand here and listen to these lies? Or will we see him _ bleed?!” _

“Bleed!” roared the crowed.

It became a chant. 

Sokka could feel it thrumming in his chest as Zuko was hauled to his knees and _ dragged _to one of the poles on the stage.

“Bleed!”

He was forced onto his knees.

“Bleed!”

His arms were untied only to be pulled around the pole and resecured.

“Bleed!”

Zuko’s shirt was _ ripped _off.

“Bleed!”

Laun flicked a whip, the _ crack _splitting the air.

“Anyone who has been wronged by this traitor,” he cracked the whip again, a hair’s breadth from Zuko’s face and even as far back as he was Sokka could see the other boy flinch, “is welcome to make him bleed.” He turned, grinning at the crowed. “I think I’ll go first.”

The whip struck like a serpent-lion.

Zuko’s whole body jerked as a weeping red line showed on pale flesh.

He didn’t make a sound.

That didn’t seem to deter the crowd from lining up — men, women and _ children _— to take a turn.

Sokka trembled as the whip struck again.

And again.

And again.

What did he _ do? _

“C’mon, Sokka,” he whispered. “_Think.” _

What did he have?

A fever, the inability to walk straight, a sword he felt too weak to use and Appa’s bison whistle tucked into his tunic. That could come very much in handy later, but it was useless now because he still had no way to get to Zuko and free him.

Not only that…

He still needed the Dragon’s Breath. Without it…

He closed his eyes against the seared image of his sister, his friends, his, his _ family, _lying so still.

"What do I do?" he whispered just as the first of Zuko's muffled cries split the air. 

The crowd around him surged forward at the sound, screaming for more blood, for more pain, for Zuko to hurt as he hurt them.

Sokka moved with them, aware that by hanging back he stuck out far too much. And maybe… maybe closer to the stage he could…

Could do nothing.

The sickening and becoming too familiar feeling of uselessness crashed down upon him as even now he couldn’t think of anything except charge the stage and given his current state that would only wind up with him captured too and the townspeople would realize that the Avatar must be nearby too.

Sokka flinched as though he had been struck as Zuko let out another choked cry.

And then he gasped aloud as a hand closed about his wrist, squeezing down where he was gripping his sword.

Tui and La.

He’d been caught.

But there was no shouting, no press of guards or weapons at his back.

Instead there was a quiet, rasping voice. “You are with the prince?”

Sokka slowly, slowly turned his head.

A little old woman, silver hair pulled into a messy bun atop her head, with wrinkles that had their own wrinkles, looked up at him. 

But her grip was tight and she was not as frail as she appeared to be.

Would she scream if Sokka pulled away? 

“Come with me,” she said, giving his wrist another squeeze. “I will help you.”

Sokka remained frozen.

It was a trap. 

It had to be a trap.

“Come,” she tugged, more insistent. “Or do you wish for the Avatar to die?”

Sokka jerked his head fully around to look at her.

What?

How did she…?

“Come. Or you will help no one.”

Sokka’s gaze slid back to Zuko, kneeling and bloodied and suffering the hatred of his people who did not understand.

There was only one choice he could make.

Sokka followed.

The old woman led him through the back of the crowd and into a sidestreet, no one paying them much mind except a few sympathetic glances as despite the fact Sokka felt like he was the one about to keel over the woman was using him like he was supporting her and murmuring to anyone who looked that she felt unwell by the noise. 

This was one crafty old lady. Sokka was hit with memories of Hama but it was too late to back out now and he had no ideas of his own. It was trust her or…

Trust her or fail.

And if he failed…

They all died.

She directed him to a shop, the sign above it reading Mei-Ling’s Herbs and Remedies and Sokka felt a flutter of hope as she unlocked the door.

This place… it _ had _to have Dragon’s Breath.

“Sit,” she said as they stepped inside, a small table and chairs right off the entrance.

Sokka hesitated and the woman gave him a push that nearly had him falling over. “Sit,” she commanded, pointing a wrinkled finger at the chair. 

Sokka did so, legs thanking him for it, as the woman bustled past him towards a large front counter, lighting spark stones as she went at various candles around the shop.. She said nothing else as she pulled out several items from behind it; a grinding stone, a bowl, and a bright orange and red colored plant.

Sokka’s breath caught.

That had to be Dragon’s Breath.

She came back over, setting her items on the table, and took the seat opposite Sokka. Dark brown eyes caught his in the flickering low candle on the table. He didn’t dare blink as she seemed to be looking for something.

She sat back in her chair with a hum. “My name is Mei-Ling,” she introduced. “The owner of this shop. And you are the Avatar’s companion.”

Sokka said nothing although he knew his silence was confirmation enough.

Mei-Ling leaned forward. “And the Avatar,” her voice dropped, “has Fire Fever.”

Sokka swallowed. 

And gave a tiny nod.

“As I thought,” she smiled, wrinkles crinkling. “It is the only reason I imagine the wanted prince of the Fire Nation would brave coming into town and attempting to steal my Dragon’s Breath, hm?” 

She said nothing more, merely starting to grind the plant she had placed into the bowl. 

The _ scritch scritch scritch _seemed to echo against the muted backdrop of cheering from down the street. 

Sokka felt his eyelids drooping despite his best attempts to stay awake, stay vigilant. 

He was just so _ tired. _

A _ scream _from outside had him jerking back up and he cast eyes to the front window.

He didn’t have time for this.

_ Zuko _didn’t have time for this.

“Ma’am—”

“Sit,” she pointed a finger at him as Sokka made to stand. “You are not well and moving as you have done has only spurred the toxin.” She cast one hard eye upon him. “Continue to do so and you will _ die.” _

Sokka gulped and did not move.

But…

Zuko…

Mei-Ling had finished her grinding and was pouring what looked like water but smelled like mint into the bowl, stirring it with her grinder. She reached down and pulled out a teacup and a flask, putting a few sips worth into the cup and the rest into the flask.

“Drink,” she pushed the cup towards Sokka.

Sokka instead looked up at her. “Why… why are you helping us?”

Mei-Ling sighed and in that moment she looked as old as she must be.

“Drink,” she repeated. 

Sokka took the cup into shaking hands.

“I am an old woman,” she said quietly as Sokka took a careful sip. “I have seen much, young man. I have lost much.” Her hands tightened around the flask. “Two sons… two sons I have lost to this war. This war,” she looked up, heaviness lining her face, “that has no end. 

“I tire of the fighting. I tire of seeing the grief and the loss of a fellow mother who has lost her son, her daughter. I do not want to see it anymore. I _ cannot _see it anymore. And if the Avatar is able to stop the fighting, stop the war… stop other mothers from losing their children then… then I would see him do it.”

Treasonous words, Sokka knew. 

This lady wasn’t just crafty.

She was brave. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I… I… _ thank you. _”

She gave him a soft, sad smile. “You must hurry now. The Avatar will not have much time left.” She pushed the flask across the table to him. “Move slowly still, yes, but the Dragon’s Breath is already doing its work. You are in no danger now.”

Sokka took the flask, hooking it to his belt.

He stood and for once the room didn’t spin.

“Thank you,” he gave a bow as Master Piando had taught him, head dipped far lower than he knew it should but he owed Mei-Ling not just his lives but his family’s. 

“Hurry,” she pointed to a back door. “To the Avatar.”

Sokka shook his head, confused. “I have to get Zu—”

“The Avatar does not have time,” Mei-Ling said. “Your symptoms were poor, young man, the Avatar’s… he must be treated _ now. _”

Sokka’s eyes widened.

She…

She wanted him to abandon Zuko. 

“He’s your prince,” he whispered. 

She bowed her head. 

“No,” Sokka shook his head. “No. I won’t.”

“You cannot save him.”

“I won’t leave h—”

“You cannot save him _ and _ save the Avatar,” Mei-Ling interrupted, her voice heavy. “I am sorry. But you must make a choice and the world _ needs _the Avatar to end this war.”

“It needs Zuko too,” Sokka retorted. 

He’d never realized how true that was. And not only that…

_ They _needed Zuko. 

“You will not be able to save him,” Mei-Ling said again. “Not against Laun and the guards.”

Sokka shook his head again, gaze narrowing as he turned from Mei-Ling to the front door, hand steady this time on the hilt of his sword and determination burning through him.

“Watch me.”

xxx

Zuko’s back wept blood.

It was all he could now cry, his own tears run dry although his eyes stung. 

He’d failed.

It was more painful than the welts carved into him, than the jeers of the crowd, than the salt water they poured over open wounds to keep him awake.

He’d failed.

Because of him…

Because of him everyone was going to die. 

He’d killed the Avatar, the world’s last hope.

He’d killed Toph. And Sokka and Katara and Suki. 

They had all been counting on him and he’d failed them.

He’d failed his people. He hadn’t been able to reach them, to help them.

They would die too as the war grew and his father’s greed spread and he ultimately laid waste to his own people. 

Zuko hung his head, barely aware of what was happening behind him except that for the moment the lashes had stopped.

He’d failed them. 

He’d failed everyone.

Hands were tugging at the rope holding his own to the pole and he felt the cords loosening, falling away. 

Free.

But he had no strength left to move. 

He tried, but his arms were stiff and his back a mess of fire and he had barely twitched a finger before hands were grabbing at his arms, his legs, and he was vaguely aware he was being _ dragged _across the stage.

Was it over?

Had they had their fill of his blood?

He forced tear-crusted eyes open, lights a nauseating blur after the darkness, straining to see. But somehow opening his eyes seemed to make the sound — a dull roar — grow even louder and he winced, closing them again against the onslaught.

People were screaming, shouting, cheering.

There was a single voice, a bellow, that he traced back to the hand tangled in his hair. The bounty hunter.

“—too dangerous to be left alive! We must—”

Zuko should have felt afraid as the words percolated.

“—deliver his head—”

He only felt tired.

Resigned.

And most terrifyingly…

Relief.

It was right, after all, that he should die too. He’d already killed everyone else. 

This was fair. 

He was being dragged again, his head _ clunking _against something.

Barrel.

The ropes were back, digging into raw flesh as he was lashed to the barrel, arms hanging limp at his sides.

The screaming was growing louder.

Zuko forced open his eyes one last time. 

Anger and hate stared back at him. 

He let his gaze drift about the crowd.

His people.

His people who hated him.

He saw charcoal eyes and brown and gold and all ranges in between, and all of them were narrowed, were elated, were ready to see him die.

And then...

And then he locked gazes with a pair of horrified looking blue.

His heart skipped.

Sokka. 

He was _ here. _

He was _ alive. _

And maybe he…

He could save everyone else. 

Not Zuko though.

His fate was sealed. 

Sokka stared at him, his mouth moved although Zuko couldn’t hear.

And then he disappeared from view.

And as the drum beat started up, as the crowd began to scream even more, Zuko wondered if Sokka had ever been there at all.

Hot breath washed over his ear as someone loomed over him. “A fitting end,” the voice, the bounty hunter, hissed, “for a traitorous fire-rat.” Cold metal touched along the back of his neck.

Zuko was too tired to be scared.

“Now…”

The axe lifted up.

The crowd screamed.

“Die.”

xxx

Sokka hadn’t really had much of an idea of what to do. 

Get back to the stage, he had that part figured. 

Summon Appa, already started as he huffed on the bison whistle as he ran back from Mei-Ling’s shop.

Start a diversion — the fight had sort of worked out in the end at Boiling Rock so he could maybe try that.

And while they were distracted he would jump up on stage, cut Zuko free of the pole with his sword and then…

Then they’d escape.

It sounded too simple.

And as he approached the town square he knew it wouldn’t work.

Because they were no longer content with hurting Zuko.

They wanted him dead.

“He is too dangerous to be left alive!” Laun shouted, hand tangled in Zuko’s hair as he dragged him from the pole to where a low barrel was at the front of the stage. “We must make sure he does not rejoin the Avatar, does not continue to hurt and deceive us!”

The crowd was screaming, stomping, waving torches and lanterns. 

“We will deliver his head!” screamed Laun and the audience screamed too. “We will spill this traitor’s blood!”

The crowd was in a frenzy, growing wildier as Zuko’s head was placed atop the barrel and ropes were produced to circle around it and his back — Tui and La, his _ back _— and Laun stepped to the side to accept a large axe from another bounty hunter.

Sokka surged forward.

Laun was letting the moment build, making a show of sharpening the axe and sending sparks dancing into the night, while the crowd screamed.

And Zuko…

He was awake.

_ How _Sokka didn’t know because he had to be in so much pain, but his eyes were half-open and they were slowly moving about the crowd.

Sokka wondered what he was seeing.

He pushed to get closer, squeezing in through the press of bodies. A few had left, uncertainty on their features at the apparent plan to execute their prince, but still not enough, still too many people chanting for Zuko’s head. 

Sokka made it to the stage, a few yards from Zuko. 

And he saw the moment Zuko saw him, golden eyes widening.

Sokka saw something else.

Guilt.

And resignation.

And acceptance.

Zuko thought…

Thought this was _ his _fault. That he deserved this.

“Zuko!” he screamed, the name swallowed up by slurs of the same. He held that exhausted gaze. “Hang on!”

And Sokka ducked away, still too far from the stage to get up on it where he needed to be. 

He glanced to the sky as he wriggled his way through the crowd.

There was a dark speck on the horizon.

Appa.

But not yet close enough.

Laun had finished sharpening the axe, was bending down now and whispering something into Zuko’s ear.

Sokka refused to let those be the last words Zuko heard. 

The man straightened, hefting the axe high into the air.

Sokka reached the stage.

“Now,” he rumbled.

The crowed _ screamed. _

Sokka placed both hands on the structure and _ jumped. _

“Die!”

The blade came down.

Sokka drew his own with a speed he didn’t know he had.

And the bright _ clang _of metal on metal echoed in the suddenly silent square.

Sokka grunted, awkwardly crouched over Zuko’s legs and his blade quivering against the huge axe straining down. 

But surprise was on his side and he surged upwards, throwing off the axe and sending Laun stumbling back a few steps while everyone else remained on the sidelines, not certain of what to do at this change of events.

Sokka took the moment to slice through the ropes holding Zuko to the barrel although Zuko made no attempt to get up, staring at Sokka with wide, horrified eyes.

“Go,” he rasped.

He was trembling.

The bounty hunters and guards alike were coming up on stage now, armed to the teeth and a few flashing fists of fire.

They were surrounded.

Sokka didn’t flinch and didn’t move from where he was standing at Zuko’s back with his sword raised.

“Well, well,” Laun chuckled although there was nothing humorous about it. “What have we got here? Another fire-rat? Or,” his gaze landed on Sokka’s face, on the too blue of eyes for this part of the world. “Perhaps one of the Avatar’s little friends?”

Gasps rippled through the crowd and people began to turn about, as though expecting the Avatar to pop up right behind them.

Sokka wished he would. 

“Sokka,” Zuko’s voice was barely a breath. His eyes were pleading.

Go.

Sokka shook his head.

Never.

They were surrounded, yes. They were far more than outmatched.

But Sokka would not run. 

He had wanted to make a diversion earlier.

This was even better.

“Yes,” Sokka said loudly, drawing more gasps. “I am the Avatar’s friend. And Zuko’s. And Zuko,” he turned to look at the audience, “is your prince and he is _ helping _ you. He wants this war to end. He wants to see the fighting end and, and your sons and daughters come home. He is here to _ help _you.”

“Sokka,” Zuko’s gasp was more of a warble that time.

The crowd was a mixture of boos but there were murmurs now that were not outright hostile.

They were confused.

“Enough!” Laun swiped the axe through the air. “What worth do a water-rat’s words hold against our great Fire Lord Ozai’s? You would believe them over our Fire Lord?”

At that the crowd began to scream again for blood in earnest along with pledges to their Fire Lord and the guards began to close in.

They weren’t going to listen. 

But maybe… maybe later they could reflect.

And they would realize how wrong all of this was.

They would see that not once did Zuko lash out at them, hurt any of them.

He was trying to help them.

Sokka crouched down, grabbing one of Zuko’s arms and hefting it over his shoulder. Zuko was dead weight even though Sokka could tell he was trying, but his legs could not support him and his breath was hot and fast on Sokka’s neck.

“Hold on,” he whispered, feeling blood squelch against his arm and hearing Zuko’s soft moan. 

“Where do you think you are going, little rats?” Laun sneered. “There is nowhere to run.”

“Yeah,” Sokka agreed. “But plenty of room to fly.”

That was the only warning they had had as Appa _ crashed _into the stage with loud bellow and a gust of wind that sent Laun and the guards and bounty hunters flying. 

Sokka practically carried Zuko to the bison’s side, who crouched down as low as he could go with another bellow, although Sokka could tell this one was not out of anger but fear, and soft brown eyes were trained on Zuko even as his tail swung behind him to keep the guards from approaching. 

Zuko somehow managed to grab onto the saddle although he couldn’t contain the short gasp as his shoulders strained at the movement and new rivulets of blood were sent running down his back. 

Sokka bolstered him up and scrambled to grab hold of the side, yelling for Appa to go. 

The bison took off with a push that destroyed what was left of the stage, sent one last bellow of air at the guards and Laun who had struggled back to their feet, and took off into the sky.

"Good boy, Appa,” Sokka murmured into the thick fur he was holding onto by the stirrup.

Appa lowed and continued back to the camp. 

They landed with a _ thump _that nearly cost Sokka his grip, but he held on, propelling himself up Appa’s side to look in the saddle.

Zuko was passed out cold.

Sokka left him for now and slid to the ground where Suki was waiting for him, shakily standing with her fans drawn.

Her eyes were wide as they looked at him, no doubt seeing the blood Sokka could feel.

“Zuko’s,” he said by way of answer. “He’s… he’s on Appa. He’ll…” he swallowed. “He’ll be okay.”

Suki took a step forward, fans dropping.

And then she was in Sokka’s arms, uncaring of the blood, and wrapping her own about his neck to hold her up. He could feel her trembling, feel the heat washing off of her and it was amazing she was still standing, had been armed and was going to try and fight if a threat had come.

She was amazing.

“You came back,” she whispered.

“I promised,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Aang, he…”

“I’ve got the cure,” Sokka lowered one of his hands, feeling out the flask and unhooking it. “Take a sip, quickly. We’re going to have incoming.”

Suki accepted the flask and took a quick swig. “I’ll get Aang,” she said, holding onto the flask. 

Sokka nodded his understanding and moved towards Katara. 

She let out a soft moan as he lifted her, her skin hot to the touch, and carried her over to Appa. He ended up having to leave her by his feet as he would need Suki’s help to get everyone into the saddle, and moved Toph. 

Suki joined him a minute later, Aang on her back and Momo clinging to Aang’s as he had not left the boy’s side since he’d fallen unconscious.

Sokka knew it had to wishful thinking that the cure had reacted so quickly, but the red lines that had nearly been seared into Aang’s skin didn’t look quite so dark now.

“Here,” she pushed the flask into Sokka’s hands.

And with a grace and strength he admired anew she shimmied her way up Appa’s saddle with Aang still on her back.

He heard her gasp of Zuko’s name as she found the unconscious, bloodied prince. 

She remained up top while Sokka got his sister and Toph to each drink the Dragon’s Breath, Toph’s nose wrinkling and he’d let out a low, relieved laugh, at the action.

Toph hated mint.

And while they weren’t out of the woods yet…

Everything felt like it was going to be okay.

Suki helped Sokka then pull Toph and Katara into the saddle and Sokka cleaned up the few things they’d had unpacked for camp. 

A minute later they were flying away; no real destination in mind as Sokka didn’t care right now about schedules and maps and trying to find the Ember Islands; he just wanted to get as far away from Jao Shing as he could. 

And…

His gaze flicked to Zuko, who Suki had tugged out of the sprawl to a more comfortable looking position and wedged him into place at the edge of the saddle and their sleeping bags.

“We don’t have bandages,” she whispered to him, expression stricken. 

It hadn’t been a supply item they’d thought to pick up, not with Katara’s healing abilities. 

Sokka stripped off his shirt and began to tear it into strips.

Zuko let out a soft groan when he was halfway through, stirring.

Suki caught his eye, gave him a soft smile, and carefully made her way to the front of the saddle to sit with the others and give them privacy.

Tui and La, he loved her.

Zuko let out a louder groan, turning slightly and then going rigid as one of his butchered shoulders bumped into the saddle.

“Hey,” Sokka said softly and even then Zuko still attempted a sort of jump, head jerking in Sokka’s direction.

Gold met ocean and just like that all of the tension bled right out of Zuko and he went limp. 

“You…” he licked his lips, which Sokka saw were bloody too, no doubt from Zuko trying not to scream. “You saved me.”

“Of course,” Sokka offered a small smile that Zuko did not return. “I couldn’t just leave you there. Who’d… who’d teach Aang firebending?”

He tried to interject a lilt, a joke, to the words, but Zuko just stared at him and Sokka felt his smile falling.

After all they’d been through… Zuko thought that was all he was to them?

“You’re my friend, Zuko,” he said softer. “Of course I’ll save you.”

Zuko’s eyes cut away. “You… you shouldn’t have had to. Save me. All of th-them. They could have… and I…”

Sokka didn’t know how it was possible as Zuko’s head was already pressed to the saddle but somehow it seemed to hang even lower.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed the words out. 

“No,” Sokka snapped, denying the apology. “No. _ I’m _the one who’s sorry, Zuko. I’m sorry you got… got hurt,” as though that could describe what had been done. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I’m sorry… I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Zuko just shook his head again. 

His eyes were closed now and all they did was scrunch up, a hiss of air escaping him as Sokka laid down his first of the bandages atop Zuko’s back; just to keep it covered until Katara woke up and could heal him. 

“You know,” Sokka said softly as he worked, “I heard you. Your speech.”

Zuko tensed.

“And maybe you didn’t save us,” Sokka said and he could feel Zuko wince unrelated to the pain. “But you saved them.”

“I didn’t—”

“They heard you too, Zuko. You’re… you’re their prince. You showed them that; you showed them honor and mercy and, and humility. And they’ll see. And when the time comes they’ll look back on tonight and realize who they want to follow. Who they want to be their Fire Lord. And it’s _ you.” _

Zuko made a sound that was distinctly a sniffle. 

Sokka patted his head. “There, there.”

The sniffle turned into a choked laugh and Zuko shook his head to knock Sokka’s hand away.

“Thank you,” came a quiet rasp and golden eyes opened to lock on Sokka’s own. “For… for saving me.”

“Thanks for being someone worth saving,” Sokka said softly, thinking to his conversation with Mei-Ling. “Thanks for being… being my brother.”

Because after this, after even what Zuko had done for him at the Boiling Rock…

They could be nothing else.

Zuko’s eyes widened.

And then his face gentled into the softest smile Sokka had ever seen.

“Sleep if you can,” Sokka said quietly. “Tui and La knows what a racket Katara is going to make when she wakes up to find you like this.”

Zuko let out another wet laugh that turned into a groan as his back shook. 

“Thanks, Sokka,” he whispered, eyes already slipping shut. 

Sokka looked up once Zuko’s breaths turned heavier, catching Suki’s eye. She smiled at him and inclined her head towards Katara.

Even from where he sat Sokka could see that the red lines were dusty pink, as were Aang’s and Toph’s.

They really were going to be okay. 

Sokka looked back to Zuko and smiled.

All of them were going to be okay. 

They’d all been saved.

And no matter how tough or impossible the choice or obstacle Sokka knew that his family didn’t take no for an answer.

They would always find a way.

And they were going to save the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was just supposed to be a little update to an old ATLA fic I wrote back in 2014. Cue more than doubling its word count from 5k to 11k and pretty much rewriting every single word in it xD I think the only thing that stayed the same was the overall plot that Dragon's Breath was the cure, but even that all changed. Ho boy. Welcome to my brand new fic xD 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it. Sokka and Zuko are tied equally for me for my favorite ATLA character (although Zuko tends to lead as I love Zutara so…) but this fic was a focus on their relationship and epic bromance :D I definitely think the world needs a little bit more of these two, you know?
> 
> If you enjoyed the fic **I would love to hear from you in the comments.** The small details absolutely make my day so if you’re able to share a favorite, scene, line, moment, dialogue, anything… I super appreciate it. This was my first ATLA fic and I'd really love to hear what you thought. Thank you! ♥
> 
> **(Like my works? Want to read even more? Visit my [Tumblr, icypantherwrites](https://icypantherwrites.tumblr.com) for details.)**  



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